Trigger Happy
by PoodlePop
Summary: It was an unusual night to be out so late. It was an unusual night to be meeting old acquaintances.
1. Chapter 1

**Kayyy… New storyline, I'm working on it… .**

**No names given in first chapter, but I'm sure you can figure them out.**

**No doubt by the description.**

**DISCLAIMER: yeah… you can tell by the word I don't own 'owt.**

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Chapter 1: Target located.

It was a Tuesday, unusual day for anyone to be out so late. Yet here was that blondie, strutting down the cold, damp street completely alone. Those black boots making their cliché clack clack on the pavement, with each steady step that was taken. The wind was cold on that porcelain neck that flashed occasionally out of the golden bob, freezing on those barely clothed arms. Yet the blonde barely shivered, taking little notice as the barely packed bag was shifted on that slender young shoulder, blowing the delicate almost hazelnut scent down the street.

It was an unusual day for a run away to be out so late.

The male, some meters behind, shifted from the large commercial dustbin where he had been sat as the blonde passed by. His black cherry hair plastered flat against his head by the rain earlier that evening, he had neglected to bring his coat, but it didn't matter to him. He dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, grinding it in to snuff out the last light. Unlike the blonde he carried no baggage and followed at a slow pace, hands in his pockets.

It was never an unusual day for a kidnapping.

He could guess her story; female, 17, lived at home with a mother, 3 siblings, and every week a different father. Smoked at 12, drunk at 13, virginity gone by 14, the last comfort remained in drug taking at 15. Now every week she would be persuaded to go cold turkey by the abuse of her mother after another father left saying he just couldn't deal with them and of course this meant her. Finally at 17 she ran away, promising her siblings she'd come back for them once she had cleaned up and got a place, but of course not all promises are kept.

It was the same, the same with every god damn chick that appeared on these cold deserted streets, each of them were exactly the kind that his bosses looked for; no home, no money, no people looking out for them, and none of them could put up much of a fight. This was easy money.

So what if it wasn't the best way to pay your rent?

_Visualise, get the motion in your head._ The same routine ran like cogs in his brain, it had yet to fail and he knew it worked. It was tried and tested, and ran like a motorbike; smooth and exhilarating, yet the tiniest trip and your face would meet concrete.

His pace picked up, eyes directly on his target, reading the blonde's body language closely. She was oblivious for the moment. Her footing was heavy and deliberate, hands clenched tightly on the strap of her bag and belt hook of her trousers. She had the air of someone who wanted to be left alone, someone who would snap if approached and asked what was up. That should add a little drama to the evening. His ears perked, she was muttering to herself.

"Damn him… who does he think he is?..." the muttering was only barely audible, spat through gritted teeth, that sure was some hate. It was probably some boyfriend gone back on his word, shame. It was such a shame he hadn't saved her from what was about to happen.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes, in which the redhead continued to tail the female in front. Occasionally she would begin to mutter again but mostly remained silent and shifted her bag or fumbled at parts of her clothing. He glanced at his watch and looked around, the streets were still dead to the world but the distant echo of a freeway could be heard.

The blonde stiffened.

Fuck.

Although she kept moving, acting as if she hadn't noticed, but it was there; the distinction in her movements. She stopped fumbling at her clothes as often and the muttering stopped altogether. She appeared far more aware than before, her stride was made of fake confidence, no longer the angry stomp and her fists, unclenched to thin nervous fingers. She knew he was following her, or at least thought he was.

He had only a few seconds, 10 at most, before things would get complicated.

He needed to act fast.

It took 3 spaced strides to reach the blonde. He'd seen this move carried out before; high kick to the lower back destroys their sense of balance, a blow to the head knocks them unconscious. It worked before; it'd work this time… Right?

Well, it didn't exactly go as planned.

There was a firm click of metal as his mind figured out that his foot had been caught in an iron grip.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two is a-coming down the mountain.

Should be longer than the last but you never know.

Disclaimer: me owns nothing but this situation.

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Click.

The metallic sound ripped through the dull silence of the night, waking up what little sense must have remained in the foolish red head as he tried to squirm out of the blonde's grip.

This wasn't the usual soulless bimbo you found broken on the streets.

This wasn't a bimbo at all.

How long had she known he was following her?

And since when had SHE been a HE?

The concrete cobbles met his back with a nice cold slam when the blonde suddenly let go of him, letting out the groan of pain as the stone managed to tap his funny bone. Blinking away the pointless pain he stared up at his victim turned attacker, the cold blue eyes mirrored the reflection of the weapon pointed directly at his head.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger and end your sorry state of a life right now." The distinctly male gruff voice spat with a lifetime's anger.

The redhead's eyes crossed at the point in which the gun ended, a distinct smell of gunpowder hung loosely around it. It hadn't been long since the blonde had last shot someone, why wouldn't he do it again now? That said though, he wasn't going to beg for mercy anytime soon, he had a reputation to hold up you know.

So why did he just keep sitting there?

And why didn't the blonde shoot again?

Was he waiting for an actual answer?

Gritting his teeth the redhead tried to move, which got a warning twitch of the gun. Those icy blue eyes still not shifting from their aligned spot as they pierced him, a cool city breeze wafted that golden fringe ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry." The redhead gave in, sitting up on his elbows, arrogance lacing his voice. "I made a mistake, mistook you for someone. Whatever the reason it doesn't matter now does it? I'm not gonna try to pull the same stunt twice on you, besides, you're not what I'm looking for."

He pushed up again, this time he was allowed to get off the dirt ridden floor, dust himself off and light up another cigarette, but the gun was still pointed at him.

"I said give me a reason." The eyes narrowed, "If I wanted an apology I would have said."

Was he actually…?

"I've killed before, what would your life mean to me?!"

He was… wasn't he?

He saw the trigger finger twitch.

Act fast!

"Heh. That's some attitude you've got." Coating his panic with arrogance, the blonde paced the space of empty road, but didn't walk away, stamping his cigarette in the gutter before it could scold him. "But I doubt you've really got the guts to commit a second murder in one night, it'd just lead them cops after you right? And you know what happens then right? If you don't get the death sentence you're as good as dead, Kira would get you in under a minute."

He smirked.

Yet the blonde seemed angrier rather than scared.

"Kira." The blonde spat maliciously, "Don't fuck around with me. Kira can't touch me, and if he did, heh, lets just say that would make one of our jobs easier, no doubt I'd make more of a show than just a broadcasting on the news, go out with a bang."

He shook his head, closing his eyes, the gun shaking a little in his hand.

"But I'm going to get there first. And even if that means going through every son of a bitch that gets in my way… why not?"

The cherry haired male stumbled back as the narrowed eyes flicked back open, pinpointing his position. He let out signs of panic, not thinking before moving, he was soon back on the floor again.

"Goodbye, hope hell treats you well."

Blackness.

"Fuck, I'm out."

He tossed the gun to the side, reaching for the bar in his pocket before taking an angry chew at it, spitting out parts of the wrapper. Now what?

He glanced back towards the male. Well, he did need a place to stay, and by the state of him the red head would be out until dawn, leaving him plenty of time to catch some rest.

He'd be doing him a favour.

Better than leaving him on the streets for some other looser to take.


End file.
